Volume Training

There is nothing more wonderful for me than the joy of being given an enema, especially a large enema, where my capacity to take it gets challenged. From the moment I hear a woman tell me it's time for my enema, I'm at my happiest. Getting naked for her, watching her assemble the equipment, especially if she chooses a large bag, and a long thick nozzle, makes me happier every minute. If she adds soap to it, that's even better, because it means I'll need a rinse enema after the soapy one.

I love being told what position to assume, over her lap, lying face down, bending over, or any other position. I watch her grease up the nozzle, and then tremble with excitement as she greases up me. I typically lift my hips up as soon as I feel the nozzle press against me back there, so badly do I want to feel it slip inside me. I long to hear the click of the clamp opening, letting the enema start to pour into me. I love being reminded that I'm expected to be a good boy, or a good girl, and take the entire bag. And when, say, three quarts of nice hot soapsuds are inside me, I love hearing that she's going to refill the enema bag, and see how much more I can take. There is no challenge more wonderful than a really challenging enema.

And if I do manage to take the six quarts, which I have once or twice, I love being told that it's all inside me, and now I have to hold it for a long time. I'm never happier than when I'm holding in a huge enema.